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Sidney’s old coat had given up the ghost at the end of the winter, and he refused to shop for a new one while the weather was warm. He made it into October, but then the temperature was down near freezing in Minnesota at the end of the month, and he started shivering in the short distance from the bus to the hotel lobby.
Geno noticed, because he always noticed, and he started in on Sidney as the elevator doors slid shut. “I tell you to look at weather, it’s cold here, and you don’t listen!”
“It’s not that cold,” Sidney said, watching the numbers count up toward their floor. He was really hoping Geno would run out of steam before they got to their room.
“You think you don’t feel temperature? Okay, fine, but you get sick, then can’t play—”
“This is making me really uncomfortable,” Olli said.
“Does Geno think you get sick from being outside in the cold? Is that what’s going on here?” Phil asked. “G, I hate to break it to you, but you need to brush up on germ theory.”
“Shut up, Phil,” Geno said, and the two of them squabbled all the way down the corridor until Geno finally detached himself at Phil’s room and came along toward the end of the hall where Sidney was waiting for him.
Geno’s expression was thunderous. Sidney couldn’t stop his smile. Phil and Geno got each other so worked up.
“You can’t open door? What’s problem?” Geno said, and Sidney rolled his eyes and tapped his key card against the sensor.
“I’m going to buy a coat,” he said, as soon as they were inside. Geno’s dramatics were amusing, but he didn’t want to spend all afternoon getting lectured. “I know I should have bought one before. You were right.”
Geno visibly deflated. He pulled off his toque and scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Sorry for, uh.”
“It’s okay,” Sidney said. He tugged gently at the lapels of Geno’s coat until Geno leaned down for a kiss. “I already knew you were a giant dick.”
He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. Geno grinned hugely, his tongue stuffed in his cheek. “You mean I have—”
“No,” Sidney said. He kissed Geno again to hide his smile. “It’s average. It’s nothing special.”
“I show you average,” Geno muttered. He kissed the corner of Sidney’s mouth and stepped away, and pulled his toque back on. “Come on. Let’s go buy a coat.”
“Oh, uh,” Sidney said. He had sort of been hoping to tempt Geno into bed. “Now?”
“Yes, now,” Geno said, and that was that. The concierge called a car service for them, and Geno tapped busily at his phone for a while and then, as they neared downtown, gave the driver an address.
“It’s best place,” he told Sidney confidently as they approached the entrance to the boutique, a discreet awning on an old brick building, and the windows to either side decked out with well-dressed mannequins.
“I’ll take your word for it,” Sidney said. Geno wasn’t his usual shopping buddy, but Flower was in Vegas, now.
Inside, a sales clerk swooped down on them immediately. Sidney left Geno to deal with the guy and started roaming around to look for coats. There were plenty of options. Sidney just wanted something warm enough that wouldn’t make his stylist or Tanger shake their heads at him.
He skimmed his fingers over the soft felted wool of a gray coat. Maybe that one. He looked around for Geno, who was still talking with the sales guy, one hip cocked to the side, grinning: flirting a little, the menace. He caught Sidney’s eye and shifted a little further into the guy’s personal space.
He thought he was real cute. Sidney drifted over and slid a casual arm around Geno’s waist, knocking his water bottle a few times against Geno’s hip. “I thought you were gonna help me,” he said, smiling up at Geno, widening his eyes slightly, because Geno was a sucker and Sidney knew how to tug his strings.
Sure enough, Geno’s focus immediately shifted away from the clerk, and Sidney had the familiar but still overwhelming experience of feeling the full force of Geno’s attention center powerfully on him. “Yes, we find good coat for you, very warm,” Geno said, and ducked his head to kiss Sidney’s cheek.
Geno and the sales guy had formed an allegiance, and Sidney’s only job was to stand in front of a full-length mirror and let them bring him coats to try on. They all looked pretty much the same, as far as Sidney was concerned: knee-length, collared, charcoal or navy. But Geno rejected one after another. “Too long,” he said, “a little bit too short, don’t like that color,” and the sales guy said, “The shoulders are too narrow,” or “He needs a higher vent in the rear,” and Sidney started getting a little nervous about the time, because they had to be at to Matt’s for dinner.
“Oh,” Geno said, and Sidney looked in the mirror at the coat he had just put on. This one? Really?
“The shoulders look good,” the sales guy said. He took a step back and gave Sidney a critical once-over. “How’s the waist?”
Sidney buttoned the coat. It wasn’t too big, or too small. It seemed warm enough. The collar looked good up or down. But the lining was purple.
“This one,” Geno said. He stepped in behind Sidney and put his hands on Sidney’s shoulders. Their eyes met in the mirror. Geno smiled at him, and slid his hands down Sidney’s arms. “Looks good.”
Sidney turned to face him. They were standing so close that Sidney would have taken a big step back if it were anyone else. He had no personal bubble when it came to Geno. “What’s so special about this one?”
“Not special,” Geno said. “But it’s right.” He flipped the collar up, and then ran his hands down the front of the coat. He tucked his fingers into the pockets. “I like, so it’s best coat for you.”
“The purple’s a little much,” Sidney said.
Geno scoffed. “What’s wrong with purple? You don’t know, you wear three colors only, it’s boring. I’m gay, so I have best taste. I say it’s good, so you buy.”
“That’s a dumb stereotype,” Sidney said.
“Okay, but true for me,” Geno said, so smug that Sidney gave up any hope of arguing him out of it.
“Fine,” he said. “We’ll get this one,” and Geno grinned and let him loose.
Geno made a big fuss over wanting to pay for the coat, which didn’t make a whole lot of sense—Sidney was the one who paid the credit card bill every month—but he had learned a long time ago to let Geno have his way with these things. It made Geno happy, doing stuff like this. It helped Geno feel bonded, or whatever. Sidney was his person, someone Geno was allowed to take care of.
It wasn’t like Sidney didn’t understand the impulse. He had bound Geno to him in every way he could, legal and symbolic, their marriage license, the property deed for their house, their joint checking account, the gold ring on Geno’s right hand that matched the ring on Sidney’s left, and the platinum ring on a chain around Geno’s neck.
The sales guy cut the tags off for him at the front counter. Sidney put the coat on right there, and felt warmer both from the coat and from Geno’s pleased smile. Tanger kept telling him they were still in the honeymoon phase, but Sidney couldn’t imagine these feelings ever fading. It just kept getting better, each new season of their lives adding another rich layer to his love for Geno.
“Thanks for helping me,” he said to Geno, as they waited on the sidewalk for a car to come pick them up.
“I know you don’t need help,” Geno said. He took Sidney’s hand and twined their fingers together. “I’m bossy husband.”
“Easy on the eyes, though,” Sidney said. He leaned into Geno’s side a little. It was Saturday, and there was a lot of foot traffic, people out shopping or just walking around. Sidney watched Geno smile at two dogs, and then at a toddler in a stroller, her hair arranged in elaborate braids.
“Hey,” Sidney said, and waited for Geno to look at him. It was as good a time as any. “Do you wanna—I’ve been thinking. Maybe we could get in touch with that adoption agency. If you’re ready.”
Geno’s face creased into an expression so warm Sidney thought he might never feel cold again. He squeezed Sidney’s hand. “You want? You ready?”
“I feel pretty ready,” Sidney said, and then to his shock felt his eyes go damp. If anyone was going to start up the waterworks, it was usually Geno. But this time it was Sidney, blinking frantically a few times, and then giving in and turning to face Geno so he could discreetly wipe his face against Geno’s coat.
“Sid, what’s wrong?” Geno asked. His arms wrapped around Sidney’s back, holding him safe and close.
Sidney sniffed hard, trying to pull everything back inside. “I don’t know,” he muttered. He squeezed his eyes shut to push the tears out, and smashed his face into Geno’s coat. “I’m just ready. I want to do this with you. I’m ready.”
“We call when we get back from road trip,” Geno said.
“Okay,” Sidney said. He let out a shaky breath.
“See, I tell you it’s right coat,” Geno said. He rubbed circles over Sidney’s back, right between his shoulder blades. “Lucky coat. Best.”
“You’ve got good taste,” Sidney said, and he stayed there in Geno’s arms until the car pulled up to the curb.